October 31st: Take II
by 3VAD127
Summary: Kim and Ron plan on having a normal Halloween trick or treating, but they soon learn that villains aren't the only ones with some tricks up their sleeve. Part I and II up. [COMPLETE]
1. Double Surprise

Disclaimer: _Kim Possible_ and all related titles, characters, and logos are © Disney Channel, Bob Schooley, and Mark McCorkle. I own nothing, and sadly, neither do you. Life is cruel.

A/N: Just a little fic I'm gonna enter at RS dot net. A simple, K/R Halloween story.

Many thanks goes, of course, to my invisible beta reader, Robert. Many thanks, dude! Also to Aero Tendo, whose creative works have inspired me. Great job, and keep up the awesome work! And to momike, for being a regular reviewer. Many thanks, and a Naco is on it's way. And, last but not least, 52311, for being such a... _spastic _reviewer. _Danke gracias _and all that.

Oh, and to all you other famous people (like CaptainKodak1, yvj, Zaratan, G-Go, and MrDrP) whom I will always adore but will never measure up to. Thanks for setting the bar high, guys. I'll always enjoy your stories.

**

* * *

**

October 31st: Take II

by 3VAD127

_Part I: Double Surprise_

October 30, 2006. Kimberly Ann Possible stared at her computer, the white screen in front of her holding her gaze. She mumbled something under her breath, then tapped the glass on the monitor. She would've died to have upgraded to a flat-panel, but her parents said it was too expensive. Rocket scientist and a brain surgeon? 'Sha, right.

Kim blinked, her eyes traveling toward the flashing black line, the only thing standing out on the sparse white screen. Beside the words "October 30, 2006", the line appeared, disappeared, appeared, disappeared. It challenged not only her mind, but her comprehensive skills. Her ability to gather information and compile it into one main thought or idea. It challenged her very being. And, unfortunately, it was the only way to graduate high school. She sighed for what seemed like the millionth time. As a senior, it was her official duty to write a paper. But not just any paper, no. Barkin's literature class was quite a shocker. She (and all the other seniors) had to write a 200-line epic poem on a hero. What a way to go through the greatest school year of your life.

And so far, all she had was the date.

She swiveled her desk chair around to face her bed, eying the phone on her side table. Maybe Ron would have some ideas...

...after all, that's what boyfriends were for, right?

Before she could stop herself, she bounded over the short expanse of carpet to her bed; leaped over her soft, pink-and-red sheets; and had snatched the phone off of its base. Kim settled neatly onto her comforter, the down-filled softness soaking her in, her red hair sprawled across the white pillows. She hit the well-worn speed dial button and prayed he was home.

After a few rings, Ron Stoppable picked up the phone. "Hello?" His voice wafted from the speaker. She caught onto it, grabbing onto the receiver ever tighter. She stared at the ceiling, then replied:

"Hey, Ron. Listen, what are you doing? I was trying to work on my senior paper; you know, the one Tough-Love Barkin assigned a few weeks ago? Well, I haven't gotten very far. I was hoping you might be able to come over and help me out."

Ron's soft, cheery voice met her ears. "Uh, KP? Did you _seriously_ just ask me for homework help?" Kim could sense the disbelief in his voice.

"Yeah! That's what I said, right? I'm sorry; was I unclear?" She flipped over to her stomach, viewing the cheerleading trophies on her headboard with little interest.

"No way, Kimbo; perfectly clear. I just wanted to make sure I had cleaned out my ears right."

Kim giggled, then flipped a stray strand of unruly hair out of her eyes.

"So, you wanna come over, Ron? Dad's at the space center working on a new project, and I'm sure Mom wouldn't mind." After the two had started dating, Mrs. Dr. Possible had become very supportive of their relationship. If Ron came over unexpectedly, she welcomed him in, all hours of the day or night. Then again, nothing much had really changed. Except the whole "dating" part.

The blond boy's enthusiasm grew to a crescendo. "Boy, would I ever!" Kim heard a few things rustling about, clothes being strewn across the room.

"I'll be over in a few, KP; don't start without me!"

Before Kim could say another word, Ron hung up. She sighed, rolled her eyes, and placed the phone back in its cradle. He was so... _geeky_ sometimes. In a cute kind of way. Ron would be Ron, no matter what.

Kim crawled off her bed and sat on the floor. She looked down at her wrinkled pink kitty pajamas, then thought, _I'd better change._ She glanced at the clock on the wall. Five after nine. _Too early to be dressed for bed._ She somersaulted to a squatting position, then jumped up and sprang to her closet.

She threw open the double doors and searched through her closet for the perfect night-before-Halloween-study-session outfit. She reached deep into her closet and pulled out a frilly orange frock her Nana had given to her. _Eeeww! _She tossed it haphazardly onto her maroon comforter.

Kim threw each item aside as she rejected it. Skirts, tank tops, jeans, camis, capris, T-shirts, shorts, and everything else wearable under the sun was thrown into a heaping pile on her bed. She tossed the leftover hangars either onto her closet floor or left them on the clothes themselves.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity (but, in reality, was only about 10 minutes), she had cleaned out her whole closet. _I still have nothing to wear!_

Kim pulled her pillows out from under her pile and threw them angrily across the room. They landed with a soft "thud" against her wall and slid silently down to the floor. Not quite as satisfying as she had hoped.

_Was it so much to ask as to have one decent item of clothing in my closet?_

She sighed, her emerald green eyes searching the ceiling. She traced patterns and connected the little dots, hoping and half-expecting an answer to jump out at her. None did.

She flopped onto her bed and buried her face in a mass of 87 percent cotton, machine washable, pre-shrunken goodness. She took a deep breath, inhaling the traces of strawberry and the faint, yet distinct, smell she knew to be burnt cheese and boy. _Ron_.

He would be coming over soon.

Kim lifted her head suddenly, her eyes filled with panic. And then, like a terrifyingly cliché horror movie, the doorbell rang.

Ø

Ron Stoppable pulled his hand back after squashing the doorbell button. He had been eager to get over to the Possibles' after Kim had extended an invitation for homework help. He always enjoyed being at Kim's, homework or none.

Ron stood on the stoop, the chilly October air nipping at his bare arms. He shivered a little, then hiked his heavy backpack up a little higher. Barkin had given them not only their senior paper assignments that day, but also an extra-heavy dose of Monday morning blues. Ron sighed, jiggling his pants pocket a little.

"Rufus, you still awake?" He tore his hand away from his backpack strap and opened the flap to his trademark khaki cargo pocket.

The naked mole rat poked his head out of the pocket, then stared begrudgingly at Ron, despondent of him for waking him up. Rufus rubbed his sleep-filled eyes with his paws, then yawned tiredly. His whiskers ruffled in the night breeze, provoking Rufus to shiver and rub himself.

"Yeah, it is pretty cold, isn't it, Buddy? I _did_ tell you to bring a jacket, but you didn't listen."

Rufus chattered something unintelligible in his mole rat language, then curled back up in the safety of Ron's pocket.

Suddenly, Mrs. Possible opened the door.

"Hola, Mrs. Dr. P!" Ron said cheerily. He held up a hand to cover his eyes, as the warm glow from the kitchen severely contrasted the dark October night. He blinked, trying to get his eyes used to the extra light.

"Hi, Ron! Kim's up in her room, if you want to go see her." Mrs. Possible said amiably.

"Of course!" Ron waltzed through the doorway and up the stairs to the second floor, where he could then gain access to Kim's loft. He froze momentarily, hearing something rustling in Kim's room. He heard her soft voice, muffled by the closed door, waft down the stairs toward him. He thought she sounded agitated. And tweaked. Most definitely tweaked.

Ron tore up the stairs to her room, pausing before the trap door to the loft. He knocked loudly on the wooden surface.

"Ki-i-i-immm!"

Ron heard a muffled gasp, then a few _more_ clothes being shoved about by Kim.

Finally, he got a response. "I'm not decent, Ron!" she said quickly.

"Are you wearing something?"

"_Excuse_ me?"

"Are you wearing something?"

A pause.

"Yeah." Kim voiced uncertainty in her tone.

"Then here I come." Ron burst through the door, breaking down the barrier between him and his girlfriend.

Kim was on the far side of the room; when he broke in, she gave a loud squeal and ducked behind her "changing space", as she liked to call it. She sat behind the hinged board, her knees pulled up to her chest.

"RON!"

Her actions may have voiced shyness, but her tone spewed forth fire. Her eyes lit up angrily as she snapped, "I _told_ you; I wasn't decent!"

"You _told_ me you had clothes on! You're decent!"

"I did and I'm not!" she shouted back to him. She waited for a response. Silence.

Curious, she poked her head around the edge of her board. Ron was nowhere to be found.

_Where was he?_ "Ron?"

"BOO!" Kim squealed and turned to face Ron. He had somehow crept up behind her on the other side of her board.

Ron sat cross-legged in front of her, rocking back and forth, laughing. Her initial fury at being fluked melted into laughter. She smiled, then giggled. She punched his arm playfully. "Don't scare me like that!"

Ron looked at her, his brown eyes full of faux pain. He rubbed his sore arm. "Ow! You hit hard!"

"You big baby." Kim kept a straight face, but the humor in her eyes gave her away. She let out another laugh, this one long and hard.

Kim wiped away a stray tear, then said, "So Ron, how's your senior paper coming along?"

Ron's lighthearted features immediately darkened. His brow furrowed and his mouth drew into a small frown. "Eh, not so good," he said. "I haven't even come up with a topic yet."

"At least you're being honest with yourself. And it's no big; we have until Christmas to do the outline. Barkin's tough, but he gives you a fair amount of time to get it done."

"Sure, sure." Ron sounded preoccupied. He stared off into space, a look of deep thought and agitation plastered onto his face.

Suddenly, his eyes widened. "Hey!" he said indignantly. "What do you mean, 'At least you're being honest with yourself'?"

Kim rolled her eyes. "Remember the 'autobiographical assignment incident'?"

"You mean the one with the mind-controlling shampoo and me an' you going on national television to stop Drakken's evil plan?"

Kim nodded.

"Oh, yeah." Ron cast his gaze downward. Wow; that had probably been one of the most... _exceptional _examples of his idiocy. How... he didn't even _know_ what. He sighed, digging his fingers into the cream-colored shag carpet.

Kim noticed his downward gaze. The way his eyes filled up with sadness whenever he felt he let her down... it was almost like a puppy. _A ferociously cute puppy._

The red-headed beauty scooted closer to Ron and put her arms around his neck.

"What I mean is that we need to learn from our mistakes. And that's what you're doing! You're admitting your problem and addressing it."

Ron's gaze rose up, and the gloom lifted from his features. "Really?"

"Really." Kim gave him a reassuring kiss on the nose.

"So, me not having a topic is a good thing?"

"No. Now you're twisting my words. I said that the fact that you _understood_ you didn't have a topic yet and that you weren't in denial yet were good things."

Ron's brow knitted, his eyes full of confusion. "I don't get it."

Kim sighed. "Oh, well. Whatever. It doesn't really matter, anyway."

She nuzzled her forehead against his neck, breathing in the scent she knew to be Ron. He gently draped his arms over her shoulders, pulling her close.

"You know, Ron, we really should get to work."

"Hmm?" Ron's mind was a million miles away. He rested his chin on her head, smelling the sweet fragrance of her strawberry shampoo.

"You know, work? As in, the stuff you're supposed to do when your bo—"

Kim was silenced when Ron's lips suddenly captured hers. She sat rigid, then realized what happened and melted into the kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close. Ron's hands lay gently on her hips, giving her comfort and holding her dearly to himself.

She sighed contentedly, tracing her fingers up and down his back. He shivered, then pulled away; both took a deep breath.

Kim looked at her beau. "Thanks," she said, her green eyes full of love. "I needed that."

"I'll bet you did." Laughter danced in his cocoa-colored eyes.

"Nuh-uh!" Kim said, pulling away and pointing a finger at him. "You _soo_ did not just say I needed that."

"Uh-huh! I _soo_ did!" He grinned good-naturedly.

"Hmm..." Kim stroked her chin in mock thought. "I have an idea." She bolted up from her seat beside the floor and ran from behind the board.

"Aww, Kim!" Ron protested. "C'mon! Where are you going?"

"Where does it _look_ like I'm going?" Kim's voice added a hint of sharpness.

Ron was silent. _Nice move, idiot_, he thought. Now he was not only a complete and total failure, but he had also insulted his BFF _and_ his GF. And he didn't even know what he had done!

"Sorry, KP," he muttered softly. His gaze traced a pattern in the cream-colored carpet.

Kim could see his outline behind the board. She sat tentatively on her bed; as if the moment was so fragile that any quick movement would shatter it, and they would be lost forever.

"Come here," she said.

He got up and obediently stood in front of her bed, head down. _Like a puppy. _

"Are you mad at me? Are we fighting?"

"No to the first question, yes to the second question."

Ron visibly winced. "Brain fart," he said. "I don't get it."

"You are so silly!" Kim laughed.

Ron jerked his head up. Kim hadn't said "silly" since they were kids. What had gotten into her? _Is she going crazy?_

"I'm not crazy," she said.

_Wow; she's hot _and_ she reads minds._

"Well, actually, I don't really know _what_ I was thinking. I just..." Kim trailed off. "I'm having mood swings. Sorry. I just wanted to have a good time with you tonight. Kinda dumb, huh?" She gave a nervous chuckle. "I hope you're not mad."

Ron breathed a sigh of relief. So it was just a silly girl thing. That was _so_ much better.

"Of _course_ I'm not mad at you," he said. "And it's not dumb of you. I think I get it now; why would I want to be mad, anyway?"

He plopped down on her bed beside her, shoving away a massive pile of clothes in the process. "You're the best girlfriend ever."

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yes-huh!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yes-huh!"

"Prove it!" Kim crossed her arms in childlike indignation.

"Fine!" Ron smiled widely, severely contrasting his tone. "I will!" He held her chin in his hands and planted a big kiss right on her lips.

_Oh, yes_, Kim thought. _The best part about fighting is making up._

Ø

A long, long while later, Kim and Ron finally finished. Ron took a deep breath and looked Kim in the eye.

"Kim, I want to ask you something."

Kimberly sat cross-legged on her bed, hands on her knees, rocking back and forth on the maroon comforter.

"OK, shoot," she said.

"Well, I was thinking—" Ron grunted as he got up from his perch on the edge of her bed, "—that maybe for Halloween, we could go out trick-or-treating!"

Kim gaped. They had gone over this before; trick-or-treating was for little kids! And she was sure Monique was going to throw another awesome, all-out Halloween party at her house. She _really_ wanted to see herself and Ron going together, showing up at Mon's party, wearing the best outfits ever! And getting a lot of attention, too. She smiled at that last part.

Then again, was trick-or-treating and a Halloween party so much different? You were still going out with your best friend, dressing in absurd costumes, just having a good time.

Kim shook her head. Oh, yeah; it was _so_ much different. At Mon's party, all of the people would be her age. There would be holiday-themed snacks and music and dancing and friends to chill with. Trick-or-treating meant whiny little eight-year-olds begging for candy.

Kimberly returned Ron's gaze. In his eyes, she could see her reflection. How he only wanted what was best for her. _And he thinks that's trick-or-treating?_

_No!_ another part of her scolded. _He thinks that's spending time with your best friend/boyfriend and getting candy, too! It's just a little harmless fun; you babysit little kids all the time. Yeah. You could pretend to be a chaperon. Yeah!_

Kim flashed Ron a confident smile. "OK," she said. "But you have to find good costumes!"

Ron's eyes lit up with a childlike joy. "You bet!" he said. "In fact, I already got them picked out."

He jumped off the bed and flung his backpack into his place. The heavy pack sunk down into the downy comforter. He rummaged through the pack, and Kim could hear the crumpling of paper. She peered over his shoulder, hoping to sneak a peek.

"Aha!" Ron exclaimed. Kim jumped back, startled from his outburst.

"I found them!" he said. He pulled out a short, pink leotard with a fluffy tutu. Pink tights and ballet flats completed the ensemble.

Kim gasped. "Huh-uh!" she said. "A ballerina? Are you serious?"

"Aww, Kim!" Ron pouted. "But remember preschool? The _very first_ Possible/Stoppable Halloween trick-or-treat excursion? Cowboy and ballerina! I thought, y'know, since I was a guy, I could kinda be the cowboy, but if you don't like the ballerina..."

"Whoa!" Kim said. "I _cannot_ see you in tights!" She grinned. "I guess it's settled; I'll be a ballerina, and you'll be a cowboy."

"Badical!" Ron pumped a fist. "I was really hopin' you'd say that, 'cuz the cowboy costume is _wicked cool_!"

Kim rolled her eyes. "OK, but let me try the ballet outfit on and make sure it fits."

She grabbed a fistful of pink poof and trudged behind her changing board. Ron gave her privacy and turned away, covering his eyes. He sat on the bed, twiddling his fingers and drumming his free hand on Kim's bed. Soft grunts and a few guttural "Snap!"s were heard.

"Kim, you OK?"

More grunts. "Yeah," she said finally, "I got it under control."

A few minutes (and much more struggling) later, Kim finally got into her ballerina outfit. She stood in front of Ron, modeling her new getup. The pink tights accentuated her perfectly-sculpted thighs; and the fluffy tutu bushed out at the waist, drawing the eye to her curvy hips. Her wavy hair was drawn up in a high ponytail, two solitary strands of red framing her angelic face. The pink leotard she wore was modest, but it was easy to see she had recently blossomed into a beautiful woman.

Ron's heart jumped into his throat, and the blood rushed away from his face. "Whoa," he muttered.

"You like?" Kim turned around gracefully.

Ron could only nod.

"Good," she said. "Then it's just what I wanted for Halloween. Thanks." She gave him a tender kiss.

"Hmm," Ron mumbled, "... welcome."

Ø

Several hours later, Ron trudged home from the "study session" at Kim's house. After the fake fight (and the costumes), they had had quite a night. Nothing bad, just some mushy stuff (like fluffy compliments) that would make any normal 11-year-old gag. Which was good; that insured the Tweebs' interference wasn't a factor. Thank goodness.

Ron stepped up the stairs to his house, skipping every other step. He fished the keys out of his pocket and inserted one into the hole. Didn't fit. He tried another one. The lock rolled back with a small _click_. Good.

He opened the door to his house, removed his shoes, and looked around. It was nearly one o'clock in the morning; that meant his parents _should _be in bed.

Ron saw a light coming from the kitchen. Key word there being "should".

"Quiet, Rufus," he said. Rufus poked his head from Ron's pocket.

"Mm-hmm." Rufus nodded enthusiastically. The caution wasn't necessary; he'd been on many missions before with his master. But still, hearing the voice of Ron (and to Ron, the voice of Rufus) was an assuring gesture. Ron tiptoed through the hallway and poked his head around the corner of the doorway.

"Ronald!" his mother said, a little over-excitedly. "You're home!"

"You've been gone for quite a while, Son," Mr. Stoppable said. He and his wife sat at the kitchen table, each holding a cup of lukewarm coffee.

"Uh, yeah." Ron tugged at his collar. "I was, um, over at Kim's."

"Really?" His mom looked at him.

"Well, your mother and I have something to tell you."

_Uh-oh._ "Yeah?"

Mr. and Mrs. Stoppable looked at each other.

"We're adopting," they said in unison.

Ron gasped, then fell backwards onto the hard kitchen floor in a dead faint.

Ø

Meanwhile, Monkey Fist, formerly known as Lord Montgomery Fiske, sat quietly on a sloped hillside. The full moon high in the sky illuminated the darkness in an eerie glow; and the long grass on the Japanese mountainside swished in the cool night breeze. He took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. Yes; tonight would be the night.

His monkey minions surrounded him in a silent semi-circle. They sat Indian style, eyes closed, bodies poised and ready for the slightest command. Their small chests hardly rose and fell with their automatic intake of breath.

Monkey Fist, perched on a rock, held his hands above his head in mock meditation.

"Yes," the Englishman said, his voice deep and guttural, "tonight will be perfect."

Ø

Darkness. That's all he could see. It was everywhere, shrouding him in a gloomy covering. It wasn't depressing or melancholy; more like a security blanket, placed here by whatever gods there were to protect him from... something. That something Ron really didn't know about, nor did he _want_ to know about. In his mind, he sighed. He guessed it was like one of those weird places in your imagination when you were half-asleep, yet half-awake.

He moaned and turned his face away when a sharp beam of light pierced through his blanket. As if _that_ would help; the light just followed his movement. Diablo sauce. That and much worse things.

For wherever he went, the light went, too. He tried to get away from it, but it just got brighter and brighter, slowly eating away at his dark blanket. _Noo!_ He squeezed his eyes shut. Whatever was happening, he wanted nothing to do with it. He'd rather lie here on the floor, wrapped in his blanket, than face whatever was out there. It was much worse than what was in here, he was sure.

But try as he might, the world around him kept getting more vivid with each passing moment. Ron became aware that he was lying down, and the cold tiles that should've been so hard underneath him were suddenly comforting. He wished he could slip back into non-reality, his little blanket wrapping him in its dark, gloomy protection. But nay. That wasn't what Fate had in mind.

He moaned as his security ebbed away, only to be replaced by that horrid light. What he wouldn't do to get rid of it!

He exercised his hands, clenching and unclenching them. The cold tiles were no longer comforting, just hard and rigid underneath his back. A metaphor for the cruel, cynical world he was currently becoming a part of again. How fair was _that_?

Slowly, his eyes fluttered, and he heard the soft voices of his parents speaking to him.

"Grrnonaaaldu." _What the heck?_

The voices got louder and more obnoxious.

"Grrnonaaaldu!" Why were they so loud?

"_Grrnonaaaldu!_" Good gravy! Can't they hold their horses?

He forced his eyes open, suddenly aware of everything. The sharp, piercing light that was the kitchen light fixture. The suddenly-loud voices of his parents. And... _What happened?_ Whatever had caused him to fall over in a faint, he was sure he didn't want to go through it again.

And what in the world was a "grrnonaaaldu"?

"Ronald!" _Ooohh_.

He stared up at his parents, trying to get his bearings. He sat up quickly, and a wave of nausea overcame him. "Ooh, don't try that at home," he moaned.

The soft voice of his mother came to his ears. "We were worried about you, Ronnie. After we told you we were adopting, you just fell right over!"

Ron gasped, and he felt his father's strong hands under his arms. Rufus, who had fallen out of Ron's pocket when he had collapsed, scampered up to his owner and sat loyally on his shoulder.

"Y-you're... _adopting_?" he stuttered. "Adopting? As in, a new kid? As in, I'm no longer an only child?"

His mom and dad nodded.

"Wow." He fell back onto his father. "That's... _wow_."

Barbara Jo nodded. "Wow is right. We knew you'd be surprised, but fainting? Well... that was unexpected."

"Sorry."

"No sorry about it, Hon," she said. "We're glad you're OK."

Ron put a hand to his forehead. "Yeah, me, too." He rubbed his temples, trying to make his headache to go away, but to no avail. Did he really hit the floor that hard?

Don Stoppable was silent.

Come to think of it, he hadn't said a thing in a while. Normally, his dad was the one gushing his insides out; Ron had always assumed that's where his _own_ trait had come from. But right now, he was quiet as a... as a...

Once again, a correct in-context simile escaped Ron. _Oh well._

The point was, he wasn't talking.

"What's up, Dad?"

Mr. Stoppable hesitated. "Well... I think the term 'adopting' is a tad... _incorrect_."

"Oh?" _Where could he be going with this?_

His mom nodded. "Mm-hmm. I think—well, more like 'adopt_ed_'."

"Huh?" Ron almost fainted again.

"Your mother's right. You see, we looked on the Internet for the longest time for the perfect child; we found some wonderful adoption agencies and some lovely kids, but none seemed like the right one. So just today, while you were at school, your mom and I went to visit an agency in Denver. They had the kids right there and showed us some of them."

Ron sat cross-legged on the kitchen floor, his father behind him and his mom in front of him. His mind swirled with the possibilities of a new sibling. The good (and bad) they could bring. And there were so many questions he had to ask! Boy or girl? Twins, or just one? What did you name them? How old were they? Old enough to play football with in the backyard? To take to the mall on a Saturday with KP and Mon?

But through all of these, one question made itself more dominant in Ron's mind.

"A-are you serious?"

His father patted him on the back. "As a heart attack."

"OK, I respect that. But what happened after they showed you the kids?"

Barbara Jo gave him a soft smile. "Well, we couldn't decide. There were so many, and all of their stories were so sad. We couldn't _possibly_ choose just one!

"But then a woman led us from the playroom where the older kids were to the nursery. It was actually your father that pointed her out to me. She was the sweetest thing you've ever seen; only about one year old. She was playing all by herself in a little corner of the nursery. Apparently, all of the other ones and twos thought she was weird."

_I can attest to that._

"Well, we went right over to her. She was so adorable! She put down her toys and looked over in our direction. Then she toddled right up to your father and held up her arms like she wanted to be picked up."

Don chuckled. "Well, of course, it's been about 14 years since I've ever held a child, so I didn't really know what to do. But I put my arms around her, and she hugged my neck. It was then your mother and I knew she was the one."

Ron blew air through his nose. "Wow."

"Wow is right," Mrs. Stoppable said. "I can't believe that we finally have another child!"

Ron's gaze traveled downward. He cleared his throat. "Don't you think a new kid will be a lot of work?"

"Oh, we know. But it'll be worth it."

Don moved out from behind Ron to sit beside is wife. He rested a hand on her shoulder, and she looked at him, smiling.

Ron practically meditated on the little purple and blue flecks in the kitchen floor. It wasn't fair what his parents had done to him! They had just gone off all willy-nilly and adopted some child from who-knows-where, and now they expected him to accept her. He was as much a part of this household as his parents were. Shouldn't _he_ have some say in this, too?

And as Ron sat on the hard floor of his kitchen, he felt more alone than he ever had. Was he the only one who saw the injustice of it all?

But then again, it would've been selfish for him to be thinking that. The look his mom gave his dad... she hadn't done something like that since he was a kid. This adoption was obviously making them happy; shouldn't he be happy, too?

But something still tugged at the back of his mind. Was it... jealousy? He had had no reason to be jealous before. He had always been an only child; he had gotten whatever he had asked for. Within reason, of course. But still—!

Jealousy?

Would he stoop so low? She was only one year old! And as cute as heck from what he had heard—

No! He would let no such thoughts pass through his mind. He was _not_ jealous, and he most _certainly_ was _not_ thinking he might actually _like_ having a sister. If anything, couldn't they have graced him with a brother? Now he would be stuck inside dressing Barbie dolls in wedding gowns instead of playing football in the backyard like any _normal _self-respecting teenage brother.

He harrumphed. _Great. I'll be a professional doll dresser before I'm even out of high school._

Mrs. Stoppable smiled gently and got up from her seat on the floor. She exited the room quietly.

She promptly returned, a small child in her arms. The one-year-old's wispy blond hair curled around her face, perfectly framing her angelic features. Her pudgy hands clung to Barbara tightly, handfuls of pink shirt in each. Her round face buried itself in Mrs. Stoppable, the top of her forehead barely visible above Barbara's shoulder. She was the icon of a perfect child.

Don got up from the kitchen floor and placed a hand on his wife's shoulder. Ron sat on the floor, stunned. She was cuter than he gave her credit for.

_But she's running you out of town, Buddy_, an obnoxious voice in his head shouted. _Don't let her do it! Pretty soon, your parents won't have enough room for you anymore. Sure, she _looks_ cute, but how do you know?_

Ron narrowed his eyes. What an absurd observation! But yet, in a way, it kinda made sense. Babies and children were a lot of work; why would his parents go through all that trouble? _And I'm sure _I'll_ have to help out in some way, too. Like get up at 4 in the morning to change a dirty diaper._ He grimaced.

A soft voice floated from the back of his mind. You_ were trouble, Ronald Adrian Stoppable_, it said. _More than your parents were ready to deal with at times, I'm sure. It's unfair to assume your parents wouldn't go through the same thing for the joy of a child. Besides, you want them happy, don't you?_

Rufus made small chattering noises from his perch on Ron's shoulder; almost like he could sense his friend's inner turmoil.

Ron sighed. Sometimes, his other half could be so unreasonable. All right; he'd try it. But he didn't have to like it.

Ron gave a small smile and stood up. He held out his arms. "Here," he said. "Lemme hold her."

Barbara shifted her weight and handed the little girl to Ron.

He stood in the kitchen, his arms awkwardly wrapped around the child—his sister. Her pudgy hands rubbed her eyes; she fluttered her eyelids at him. Ron took a sharp breath. Her eyes were a luminescent blue; a brighter and more brilliant shade than he had ever seen before. It reminded him of...

... the Lotus Blade. His eyes widened. Strange.

She blinked at him; her eyes had a soft film covering over the bright blue. She touched his face, his nose, and finally rested her hand on his ear. She smiled, and a small chortle erupted from the back of her throat. She reached towards his face with both hands, clenching and unclenching her fists. Her sausage-like fingers grabbed handfuls of his sandy blonde hair. She laughed loudly.

Ron grimaced. "Ouch!"

She mimicked his actions. "Ouch!"

Ron laughed, touching her nose with his finger. He gently traced his finger along her ivory skin.

"Molly." His mother uttered the word so softly, he almost couldn't hear it.

Ron looked up at Barbara.

"Molly," she repeated. "Her name is Molly Gabrielle."

"Molly." Ron said the word with reverence, as if it were so fragile it would shatter if shouted out too loudly.

He gently rubbed his thumb on her cheek. She grabbed his finger and held it tightly to her chest. Molly's bright sapphire eyes never focused; she looked as if she was staring off into space. Her beautiful face, button nose, and golden hair pierced his soul and melted his heart. His sister. He smiled, rubbing away a drop of moisture in his eye with the palm of his hand.

"Molly!" the voice gurgled from the back of her throat. She rubbed her hands on Ron's face, her tiny fingers groping over his features as if trying to read his expressions. She puckered her lips and arched her eyebrows like Ron had done; she looked ready to cry.

"Good girl." Ron gave her a kiss on the nose.

"Goo gurl!" Molly clapped her hands together and planted a big kiss on his nose.

"Hmm..." Ron rubbed his chin thoughtfully. _This could get interesting._

Mr. Stoppable laughed. "I've seen that look a million times before, Son," he said. "Don't even think about it."

Ron made a face and blew a raspberry in his dad's direction. "I don't know _where_ you'd get _that_ crazy idea, Dad!" He bounced Molly on his hip, bathing in the delighted giggles she gave him. All the while, she stared at nothing in particular with her empty sapphire eyes.

Ron noticed her empty stare and looked concernedly at his mom. "I-Is Molly OK?"

Mrs. Stoppable nodded. "Of course. Why do you ask?"

"Well, when she first looked at me, she didn't seem to really _see_. I mean, she saw, but she looked _through_, not _at_. And—"

Barbara shushed him with a finger. "No, nothing's wrong with her."

"But I saw that film over her eyes! Why won't she focus on anything? Is she OK?"

Don and Barbara's gaze shifted to the floor. The silence that followed was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Finally, Ron's dad stepped forward. "Son," he said, "Molly's blind."

* * *

A/N: I hope you guys like the first installment of October 31st: Take II, the first in a series of several. I originally wanted it to be one chapter, but I didn't realize it would be this long. I hope y'all like reading this story as much as I like writing it.

Please feel free to correct me on anything if I'm wrong. I realize that some adoptions can take months to process; I decided to shorten it up and make it the same day. It may not be logical, but it sounds good in the story.

Aww! A little one-year-old being blind! "How cruel, 3vad!" you say. Well, sorry, but the hard truth is that things like this happen all the time. And don't worry; Molly's story will be continued in the next update.

Don't forget: write a review, get a response! Thanks for reading, and come back again for part 2. Happy Halloween!


	2. Of Blades and Men

Disclaimer: This story and all of its related ideas, including Molly Gabrielle Stoppable, are mine. _KP _and all of _it's_ related ideas including, but not limited to, the characters, concepts, artwork, and logos belong to Disney. You know that for a fact because if it were up to us, Season 4 would've started by now.

A/N: Many thanks goes again to Robert, my one and only invisible beta. Great work, Rob! Also, _muchas gracias_ and a grande-sized Chimurrito combo goes to the future reviewers of this story. Thank you in advance.

And now, chapter 2.

**

* * *

**

October 31st: Take II

by 3VAD127

_Part II: Of Blades and Men_

Finally, Ron's dad stepped forward. "Son," he said, "Molly's blind."

Ron took a sharp breath. _Blind? _What a terrible way to go through life; never able to see the kaleidoscopic view of colors that was a rainbow, never having a chance to look at the flowers blooming in spring or the laugher dance in the eyes of your best friend. What a miserable existence.

But Molly had known darkness all her life. To have it stripped away might leave her feeling bare; almost like when he himself had passed out, and his blanket was ebbing away in a flash of light. And besides, her senses of smell, touch, taste, and especially hearing had been amplified because of her blindness. There were ups to this, weren't there?

He sighed sadly and gazed at Molly. Her hazy blue eyes stared off into the distance, and her pudgy hands curled around his red hockey jersey. Her small mouth molded into a crumpled frown, as if she could feel the doubt and despair that lingered in his heart. He gave her a lopsided grin and held her small hand to his cheek.

Another gurgling noise sounded from Molly's throat. Almost like she was trying to piece together letters and sounds into a word to fit what she felt.

Ron gently rubbed her hand over his face, having her touch his nose, hair, and ears. "Ron," he said softly.

"Won." Molly's face crinkled, as if she was trying to think. She pulled away from Ron's hold and gently touched his nose, hair, and ears in the same order. "Won," she repeated.

Ron smiled. "Ron," he said. "_Rrrrr_."

"Ron. _Rrrrr_!" She laughed excitedly and clapped her hands. "Ron!" She stuck her hands onto his face again and explored with her fingers. Around his eyes, over his cheeks, around his neck. She even paused briefly when she touched his assortment of freckles. Even though they were only skin blemishes and didn't stick out at all, Ron had a feeling she knew they were there.

Molly giggled, touching his ears and freckles. "Ron." She knew him now; apparently, his ears were his most prominent feature of identification.

Ron blushed a deep red. _I hope they don't stick out _too_ much._ He sighed, but was suddenly hit by a stroke of genius.

"Ron," he said, running her hands over his face.

"Ron," she repeated obediently.

"Molly." He took her small hand and ran it over her own face. He touched her nose and ears and wispy blonde hair, finally completing the circuit at her lips. "Molly," he repeated.

Molly looked confused, as if she didn't quite know what to do about this new idea.

Ron repeated the process. "Ron," he said, running her small fingers over his face. "Molly." Her own face this time. "Ron. Molly."

All the while, Molly's little face worked up emotions; Ron could see glimpses of her inner battle to understand what was being taught to her.

Ron dropped her hand. Molly tentatively touched Ron's ear. "Ron?" she whispered.

"Ron." A word of encouragement and affirmation.

"Molly." She sounded more confident this time as she touched her own ear.

"Yes!" Ron exclaimed. "Good girl!" He gave her a kiss on the nose.

"Yes!" Molly repeated loudly. She touched her nose. "Molly!" She touched Ron's. "Ron!"

"Yes!" Ron spun her around in a circle, basking in her delighted fits of laughter. He touched her nose.

Mrs. Stoppable finally spoke up. "I-I'm just glad we could give her a good home," she said. "The poor girl—!" Barbara sniffed, then went on, "Her mother died in childbirth, and when her father learned she was blind, he disowned her." Another sniff. "She was first sent to the orphanage in her hometown, but they didn't know what to do with her. She was born in Norway, you know, so she hadn't quite figured out the entire language yet. Her father taught her a little English before he left, but that's about it. They started teaching her in the Norwegian orphanage, but when she didn't respond to letters and numbers, that's when they figured out why her dad had dropped her off on their doorstep."

Norway. Ron shuddered. He didn't know why, but that country always gave him the creeps. Almost like he had been there before, in another dimension, and something terrible had happened...

... he didn't even want to think about it. And poor Molly! To be disowned by your own father simply because you were disabled. That was _not_ fair.

_Ah, but life isn't fair, now is it, Ronald?_ A dark voice echoed through his mind. _Consider... oh, I don't know... _yours

Ron snorted. Stupid... stupid... doubts. Molly. _His_ sister. Norway. Blind. And nothing, _nothing_ was ever going to change that. Ever. No matter _what_ he thought, he would always love her. It was obligatory on his part.

He stroked her ivory cheek. "Why? Why would someone _do_ something like that?"

Don sighed. "Son, sometimes people don't know how to act around others who are... _different_ than them. They just don't know what to do, so they either ignore them, or they treat them badly. I guess it makes them feel better so they don't have to think about the other's disability."

Mr. Stoppable took Molly from Ron's arms and ran his hand through her soft, whitish hair. "I'm just glad we could provide her with a home."

Ron's thumbs twiddled, not really sure what else to do with them. "Hmm," he said softly.

Molly giggled and ran her hands over Don's face. "R—" she suddenly stopped. Her nose crinkled, and her face looked confused.

"Dad?" Don offered.

"Dad?" she repeated. She gently traced his nose, cheek, and his glasses.

"Dad."

"Dad." She laughed excitedly.

"Wow; she really learns quickly," Ron noted.

Don nodded. "Mm-hmm. She's exceptionally smart for her age."

Ron sighed and rolled his eyes. "You're just saying that 'cause she's yours now."

His dad chuckled. "Well, maybe a little." He held her tighter, smoothing Molly's pink shirt. He outlined the small purple heart on her chest, then said, "But seriously, Ronald, she's a brilliant little thing."

Ron grinned. "I know. It must run in the family."

"Good thing, too, because without it, your old man would be lost!"

Ron chuckled. "Ha ha, very funny." He rubbed his eyes; it felt like thousands of little specks of sand had embedded themselves in his eyelids. _Is it really that late?_ He glanced at the clock. One fifteen. He yawned, then ran a hand through his straggly blonde hair.

His mother noted this. "It's getting late, Ronald," she said. "I think you'd better get to bed."

Molly suddenly sighed, then stretched her little arms out in a wide yawn.

"I think we _all_ need to get to bed," Barbara amended.

"Yeah," Ron said tiredly. "Good idea." He hugged his mom and kissed her on the cheek. "'Night, Mom." He ran his finger across Molly's cheek and touched her nose; his signal. That was how Molly knew him. "Good night, Molly," he said softly.

"'Nigh nigh, Won," Molly said with a lisp. She waved at Ron with a closed-fisted hand. She stuck her thumb in her mouth, and her eyelids drooped wearily.

"OK, Baby," Don said softly, "it's time for you to go to bed." He grasped under her lightly and stepped up the stairs to the second floor.

Ron smiled. "That's right, Molly. 'Nigh nigh." He rubbed his eyes once more and followed Mr. Stoppable up the stairs to his room.

When Ron entered his room, Rufus jumped from his shoulder and scampered off across the floor. He snuggled under Ron's bed covers and was asleep in an instant.

Ron yawned. _That looks like a great idea, Rufus._ He sleepily pulled off his shirt and pants and slipped into a pair of red- and white-plaid pajama bottoms. He sighed, then wearily slapped at the light switch by the door. He had barely crawled into bed beside Rufus before he was out like a light.

Ø

Breathe in, breathe out.

Breathe in, breathe out.

It was so simple, yet so complex; the balance of the universe hung on a single strand of thread that was just this: the breath of life.

But there were so many levels to this. It wasn't just breathing; to those who chose to seek, and who looked for the right path to take, one could find a special... _something_. That "something" not even Monkey Fist knew. All he _did_ know was that it slowed his heart rate and brought him on the path to meditation.

And right now, that's all he wanted.

Lord Montgomery Fiske, a.k.a. Monkey Fist, sat alone in the small passenger bay of his jet. He had ditched the ugly banana-shaped one for a more this-century design with sleek lines and graceful curvatures. It was fast, too. Really fast. Fast enough to get him to Middleton by Halloween night.

He grinned, his yellowish fangs glistening in the dim light of the cabin. Right on time.

Ø

_Brrriiiiiiinng!_

Middleton High's final school bell ran shrilly against the chilly October air. Masses of students rushed out of the building, bursting through the double doors to their freedom. Most juniors and seniors ran off in their clunky cars to some after-school hangout with their respective clicks, while the freshmen and sophomores loitered in the parking lot, awaiting their ride's arrival. Groups of guys and girls could be seen dotting the parking lot asphalt like flies on a windshield.

Well, at least that's what Ron thought of them. Flies, so blissfully unaware of the surrounding mayhem unfolding right in front of their faces. Free to fly around doing whatever they wished, feasting on excrement, until they die suddenly and pitifully, squashed on the windshield of an eighteen-wheeler.

He shook his head. What was up with him? He normally didn't think like this! People couldn't be compared to flies! They had worth, just like he did. So, what happened to his usually-optimistic outlook?

He sniffed the air. It smelled of sulfur and just a hint of mold. He crinkled his nose. Nasty. And it was usually so pleasant this time of year! The air filled with the crisp scent of fall, the multicolored leaves silently drooping from their holds on the branches, then suddenly floating down to the soft, browning grass beneath. Kids chattering of fall break, and teachers lounging around school like the king of the world.

But no. Rotten eggs and, well, whatever mold smelled like.

Rufus poked his head from Ron's khaki pants pocket, his whiskers swishing back and forth in rhythm with Ron's steady walking. He, too, sniffed the air, then pinched his nose shut as if smelling something spoiled. "Bleck!"

Kim Possible walked beside him, her soft hand wrapped in his. She had kept silent ever since they had left the building; she knew sometimes Ron just wanted time to think.

But now she decided to speak up.

"What's up, Ron?" she asked. "You seem a little... _off_." Her auburn hair blended perfectly with her forest green sweater and cream-colored scarf and hat. She gazed at him with her round emerald eyes.

Ron sighed, tugging at his own sweater—maroon. Kim had insisted. "I honestly don't know, KP," he said. "It just... _feels funny_, you know? Like there's something in the air."

Kim sniffed. "I don't smell anything."

"Well, I did. And it smells like trouble." Rufus scampered up to Ron's right shoulder where he could be seen by both of the teens. He eagerly nodded his agreement.

Kim sighed, shifting the weight of her backpack so she could scratch Rufus's head. He arched his back like a cat and sighed contentedly.

"Or maybe I'm going crazy." Ron suddenly narrowed his eyes and looked around the parking lot suspiciously.

Kim laughed. "I think you _are_ crazy."

"Oh, I already knew _that_," Ron said. "But to prove that, you can just call me... _Captain Jardinière_!"

Kim snorted. "Oh?"

"Yes, in fact!" Ron puffed out his chest.

Kim placed her hand on her mouth, desperately trying to hold back laughter.

Ron, unfortunately, noticed; his balloon of confidence deflated as suddenly as it had gained. "What? What's so funny? _Jardinière_ means _crazy_ or _mentally ill_, right? Right?"

Kim let out a loud laugh, unable to hold much back anymore. She let go of his hand and walked to his scooter, which was a few paces away. She giggled, then turned around and said, "Sure thing, Captain _Flowerpot_. Whatever you say!" She laughed again, flipping her red hair aside to make way for her helmet. Rufus followed after her, putting on his own mole rat-sized helmet and hopping into the Fearless Ferret basket attached to the front.

Ron's face burned. _I should've paid more attention in English class today._ He sighed, scuffled to his blue scooter and revved it up, taking off in the direction of Kim's house.

Ø

Ron pulled up to the Possible homestead in record time. He parked on the curb, setting his helmet on the seat and placing Rufus on his shoulder. Kim did the same, capturing his hand in hers and strolling up the front walk. He followed her obediently.

The redhead turned the knob and walked in; her parents were home.

"Kimmie-cub!" Mr. Dr. Possible's voice rose from the kitchen. "How was school?"

"Fine, Dad," she said, releasing Ron's hand and grabbing an apple from a basket on the counter. She took a bite of the green fruit, then said, "Ron and I just have a lot of preparing to do tonight before trick-or-treating."

Ron nodded. "Yeah," he said. "And I need to pick up Molly from home; I promised Mom and Dad I'd take care of her tonight." He had told Kim earlier that day about Molly, and she had been excited to see the new addition to the family; albeit a little surprised (then angry) that Ron's parents adopted without telling him first. He insisted it was OK and she was overreacting. She calmed down, but still fumed a little over the prospect.

The Drs. Possible, however, didn't know. James lowered the _Examiner_ from his vigilant gaze and fixed his stare on Ron, who had seated himself at the kitchen table. "Oh?" he said with a cocked eyebrow.

Ron nodded, his mouth full of a peach he had snagged from the fruit basket. He swallowed, then said, "Yeah. Mom and Dad adopted a new little girl. They always wanted another kid, and she's had a really bad family life, so it's our chance to do something good for her. At least," he took another bite, "that's what Dad said." Peach juice streamed down the sides of his mouth. He swiped it away with the back of his hand.

Another cocked eyebrow from Mr. Possible. He raised his newspaper again, shielding his facial expressions from the teens.

"Well," he said, his voice muffled behind the _Examiner_, "I hope they're happy."

"Oh, they are," Ron assured him. _But you're not, are you?_ Curse that voice. Die. Die and burn in... well, whatever. Molly was happy, Mom and Dad were happy, and that's all that mattered.

He took another bite of the sweet fruit in his hand. Imported straight from Georgia; the best kind. It was juicy and sweet, yet it had a little twang at the end that ran down his throat in warm torrents of flavor. It was good. He swallowed, savoring the delicious aftertaste. Not an ounce of sugar added. Now _that_ was amazing.

He turned the peach over in his hand, rubbing his thumb over the thin fuzz that covered the fruit. Why couldn't life be like a peach? Soft and gentle on the outside, sweet and tangy on the inside.

Ron sighed. Only in an ideal world. This most _definitely_ wasn't one of those.

"Hey, Captain Flowerpot," Kim sang. Her voice tinkled across the air like a thousand tiny wind chimes, only adding to Ron's fruit-induced stupor.

"Hmm?" He mumbled uncomprehendingly.

"We need to get ready."

"For what?" He still stared at the peach in his hand.

"Uh, Halloween?" Kim was a bit concerned.

"That's nice." _What a lovely peach._

Kim folded her arms. "Ron, the neighbors called our house today. They claimed they saw a giant, fire-breathing beaver rampaging our home and eating our supply of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches."

"Great; that's exactly what I would have said."

Kim shook her head. She grabbed a glass from the cupboard, filled it with icy-cold water, and dumped it on Ron's head. He yelped, accidentally dropping his peach onto the floor.

"Gah! What was that for?" He shook out his hands, flinging drops of water over the _Examiner_, Kim's dad, and the table. Never once did Mr. Possible flinch. Not even when Kim said their supply of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches was gone.

"For not paying attention."

Ron spied his beloved fruit lying on the floor. He gasped. "My peach!" He scrambled for the fruit, taking it gently in his hands and picking the solitary strands of dust off of its half-eaten flesh. He sat down on the chair, fully engaged in his peach.

Kim sighed. "You're doing it again!"

And again, Ron did nothing but slave away at getting his wonderful peach spot-free and fit to eat.

Kim leaned against the counter, watching him. Apparently, the peach was OK now, as Ron took a bite of it promptly. The look of utter delight on his face was priceless.

But alas, all good things must come to an end. Ron finally finished off the peach, holding the grooved seed in his hand. He looked at it forlornly, as if he believed it would come back if he stared at it enough.

When it didn't, he glanced at Kim, then the seed, then at Kim again. The redhead walked up to Ron and placed a hand on his shoulder. She may have thought he was crazy, but that didn't mean she didn't support him.

Ron looked at Kim, his big brown orbs drilling into her. He held the seed between two cupped hands, as if he held a treasure far greater than gold or silver. His fingers gently caressed its bumpy sides.

"It looks like a brain," he said.

Kim slapped her forehead. _Yup; that's Ron for ya._

"How... _prophetic_, Ron," she said gently. "Now come on." She eased him out of the kitchen chair and plucked the peach seed from his grasp.

Ron gasped. "Hey!" he said. "My peach!"

Kim led him to the backyard. "Here," she said, making a hole in the middle of the yard with her hands. She pulled up the roots of the grass, placing the seed in the hole. Ron looked on intently like a preschooler on their first field trip.

Kim covered the hole with a mound of dirt and grass. "Now when spring comes," she said, "we'll have a nice, big peach tree. And you can come over and eat peaches whenever you want!"

"Yeah!" Ron jumped up and thrust a fist in the air.

"Yeah!" Rufus echoed. He had left for a brief period during the "Great Peach Debate," but had soon returned when he sensed the teens leaving for the yard. He scampered up Ron's arm and plopped on his shoulder.

"That's awesome!" Ron continued. "Just think, Rufus! Peaches whenever we want!" He let out a whoop and ran around the Possible yard like a madman, his mole rat clinging to his maroon sweater for dear life.

Kim giggled behind her hand. _Just like a kid._

Ø

Later that night, Kim and Ron had gotten into their respective costumes. Ron toted Molly behind him, holding her hand and leading her in the right direction. She followed him obediently, as if she knew he wouldn't lead her astray. Kim and Molly had met, and Kim told her her name and let Molly feel her face. The toddler had giggled and clapped her hands excitedly, much like she did with Ron.

And tonight, all she did was giggle. Molly was dressed as a princess, her sparkly blue gown setting off her sapphire eyes. Her wisps of blonde curls were subdued under a plastic rhinestone tiara, and on her feet were little purple slippers with fluffs of white on the tops. She bounced around as if she could sense the excitement and electricity in the air.

The trio had already hit Middleton and Upperton and were on their way to Lowerton. Molly had charmed every house they had been to, and so excessive candy had been given to them. Not that they were complaining, of course. Crunchie Bars, Snicker-Squigglies, Sugar Puppies, and Whistle Pops overflowed Kim's, Ron's, and Molly's baskets. The plastic jack-o-lanterns were full to the brim with sugary goodness.

But, of course, there was always trading to be done.

Ron tipped his cowboy hat at a kid dressed as a washing machine. "Hey, kid," he said, "whatchoo got?"

The ten-year-old and his posse of household appliances approached Ron cautiously. The kid peered into his own jack-o-lantern, then said, "I've got Peachie-O's, Caramel-Peanut Bars, and Chewy Nougat Galore. That I'm willing to trade, of course." He glanced at Ron. "What do _you_ got, Cowboy?"

"Hmm..." Ron scratched his chin as if deciphering the most important decision in his life. "I'll trade you... five Whistle Pops for a bag of Peachie-O's."

"You shoot high, Pard," the boy said mock-Western style. "How 'bout you give me _four_ Whistle Pops—" he and his friends whispered to one another, each one nodding their agreement, "—and a Sugar Puppy for each one of my pals." Washing Machine Boy crossed his arms; Toaster, Blender, and Dryer did the same.

"You've got yourself a mighty handsome trade," Ron said. He shook the boy's hand enthusiastically and handed him the candy booty. He eagerly grabbed the bag of Peachie-O's from the boy's hand.

Kim and Molly had stood to the side as Kim gazed, intrigued, at the exchange going on between Ron and Washer Boy.

The blonde cowboy returned triumphantly like he had just won a great battle. He pulled open the bag and popped a donut-shaped ring into his mouth. It was peach-flavored, orange and pink, and was covered with sugar.

"Want one?" Ron said, his mouth full of the gel-like _O_. He extended his bag of fruity goodness towards Kim.

"Uh, thanks, but no thanks, Ron," she said. "I've got plenty."

Ron shrugged. "Suit yourself." Another Peachie-O plunged to the depths of a black hole—Ron's stomach. "More for me."

Molly scrunched up her face and let out a soft whine. She suddenly dropped Kim's hand and ran for Ron. She tilted unsteadily as she bolted across the short amount of pavement to her big brother.

Ron dropped the bag of _O_'s in surprise and grabbed up Molly before she could fall. He set his and Molly's buckets of candy down on the street. A single, stray tear had inched its way out of the corner of Molly's eye.

"What's the matter, Molly?" Ron asked. He gently traced her cheek and put his finger on her nose. She grabbed it and held it to her chest.

_Don't ever leave me, Ron._

_Never._ A reassuring hug and kiss.

Molly's face gently subsided into a soft smile. She was OK now; he was here. He was her guardian angel.

Ron dropped the toddler to the ground and set the plastic bucket of candy into her hands. She smiled again and eagerly toddled off in the direction of the sidewalk. A few trees stood in a small grass strip between the asphalt and the sidewalk.

"Be careful, Molly!" Ron called. "Don't go too far."

Kim smiled affectionately at her BF. "Nice moves, Ron," she said.

Ron looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean with Molly. She practically idolizes you! You say her name, and she flips out."

Ron cocked a smile. "Well, I wouldn't say _idolizes_..."

Kim snorted. "_I_ would." She rested her head on his leather-clad shoulder. His leather vest covered a checkered shirt, and cowhide chaps and jeans adorned his legs. A pair of authentic cowboy boots, and gun holsters complete with fake pistols completed the ensemble.

_That really is a cool costume_, Kim thought.

Suddenly, a piercing scream echoed through the clear night. Kim jerked her head around, startled. Someone was in trouble. She needed to help. The bold redhead tried to move off in the direction of the scream, but a hand on her shoulder held her back.

Ron held Kim's shoulder, his features twisted into an emotion she'd never seen before. Kim gasped. The look on his face said it all.

_Molly._

Ø

Monkey Fist and his legion of monkey minions hopped down the streets of Lowerton, weaving from child to child. The best thing about being a monkey man on Halloween is that everyone thought you were just a really big kid in a really freaky costume. Yay; more advantage for him.

When the kid-packed streets had become too much to handle, he resorted to using back alleys and jumping from shadow to shadow. He worked his way through the maze of streets and side roads, using only his instincts. He avoided the water collecting in small puddles on the ground and leaking from the eaves of the houses, dodging the dripping menaces like a professional paintballer.

And finally, after what seemed like forever, his finely-tuned hearing could pick up faint traces of the cheerleader's voice. And where the cheerleader was, so was Stoppable. He picked up the pace, not bothering to look back to see if his minions were keeping up. He swung from drainpipes and jumped off of trashcans and boxes piled in the alleys.

So captured was his attention that he failed to notice a small toddler with blue eyes and purple shoes making her way towards the sidewalk where he now stood. She tripped on the cement curb, but caught herself on the soft grass. She awkwardly stepped over the curb and brushed off her hands, relieving them of grass. The toddler stopped.

Monkey Fist took notice. _Now, what do we have here?_ He gazed at the small child; one of thousands dressed up on this very night. It could be anyone...

He hunched over and stared into her non-blinking eyes. The hairy Englishman squinted. He didn't know what, but somehow, this girl seemed familiar...

"Be careful, Molly!" Stoppable's voice. "Don't go too far." It was obvious he was talking about the blonde-haired little girl in front of him.

Slowly, a wicked grin spread across Monte Fiske's features. _How convenient._

Ø

Ron and Kim bolted to where they had heard the scream come from. Ron led the way, jumping over the curb and running swiftly down a dark alley filled with musty boxes and old crates. Kim followed closely behind him.

Ron suddenly slid to a stop, his cowboy boots spraying water across the cement, eyes wide with fear. Kim froze, noticing a hunched figure emerge from the back alley. She instinctively clenched her fists.

_Monkey Fist_, Kim thought bitterly. _Figures._

The monkey man held the child with his left hand, his right helping him along the ground. Molly didn't struggle or cry, but her eyes were filled with terror. She whimpered softly, tugging on the villain's arm. He squeezed her tighter, and she let out a soft wail. Tears welled in her eyes.

Ron's hand clenched in anger. "What do you think you're _doing_, Monkey Butt?" he spat.

Monkey Fist gave a malicious chuckle. "I'd be careful if I were you, Stoppable," he said. "We wouldn't want _this—_" he gestured to Molly, "—little angel to, ahem, come across foul play."

"Are you blackmailing me?" Ron's voice shook.

A sickening grin twisted across the Englishman's face. "Maybe."

Ron narrowed his eyes. "What do you want?" He clenched his fists, and Kim swore she saw a sliver of blue electricity dance across his knuckles.

Monkey Fist held up his right hand. "What do you _think_ I want?"

"The Lotus Blade."

Monkey Fist nodded. "Yes. You're getting pretty good at this."

"Maybe I wouldn't if you actually got the Lotus Blade and _kept_ it for once."

Fist growled. "I suggest you keep your comments to yourself," he snarled. "No good will come of it."

Ron eyed the monkey ninjas. _He could take 'em. _Save the Blade _and_ Molly. It was a win/win situation. He gave a confident smirk and charged, his hands stretched outward in a palm strike.

The monkeys scattered, but Ron managed to catch one on his palm. The simian's jaw folded with a resounding _crunch_, and he flew into the wall, taking out another comrade. Both were out.

Ron spun around, catching a ninja in the solar plexus with his heel. He spun into a sweep kick and knocked more monkeys off their feet. He jumped into a backflip, lashing out with his feet into a scissor kick ending in a roundhouse. More monkeys were down.

Ron backed up, surveying his situation. More simian ninjas clad in black swept his way. Like a swarm of flies.

"Tsk, tsk, Mr. Stoppable," Monkey Fist said threateningly. "That move will cost you." He reached for Molly, and she let out a scream. She thrashed against his arm, kicking and biting.

Kim gasped and jumped back into the shadows of the overhanging roofs. She sneaked around to the back of Monkey Fist and lashed out with a well-placed kick to the head. Fiske gave a small gasp, then fell face forwards on the hard pavement. His grip loosened on Molly, and she ran from the unconscious body to Kim. Kim moved to intercept the toddler, catching her in a tight hug. She stroked Molly's blonde hair just below her tiara. Kim held her above her own pink poof—the tutu. She bounced Molly on her hip as the youngster clung tightly to Kim's pink leotard. Molly could tell Ron was in trouble as small, salty tears ran down her ivory cheeks. She buried her head in Kim's shoulder, wetting Kim's outfit.

The teen patted Molly's back. "It's OK, Molly," she whispered, "it's OK. Ron will be all right." She gazed at her BF, busily engaged in battle with the hoards of monkey ninjas. She caught her breath. It wouldn't take much for her to help him...

... no. This was his battle. Right now, it was her duty to take care of Molly. Kim gave one last look at Ron before she scampered off down the dark alley, dodging the translucent puddles of water at her feet.

Ø

Kim walked slowly to where she and Ron had left their candy buckets. She picked up Molly's and handed it to her. They had enough candy for one night, and with the dark cloud of despair hovering over their heads, the night seemed to have lost its luster. The one-year-old sniffed and wiped away a small tear, then gripped the jack-o-lantern with both hands. Kim lowered Molly to the ground and got down on her knees. She looked into the toddler's bright blue eyes, then said, "I-I know you're scared, Molly. I am, too. But Ron's going to be OK; he's fought these guys before. He always wins." Kim hugged her tightly. "Always." She whispered the last word, more for her own self-assurance than Molly's.

She wiped a tear away. Wasn't Halloween supposed to be a night of fun? Of dressing up in absurd costumes and hanging out with your best friend, getting candy from complete strangers? OK, maybe not that last part, but it certainly was supposed to be fun. But not anymore. Not without Ron.

Another tear. They flowed freely now, and she let them. Molly held tightly to Kim's hand, not wanting to ever let go.

He would be OK. Kim had said so. Kim was good; Ron liked Kim. If Ron liked Kim, she _must_ be good because Ron was good. It was the way things worked. If Ron didn't like something, it was automatically dubbed evil in her one-year-old mind.

Molly turned her head to the side. Her world may have been dark, but her ears were full of sounds that filled her brain with colorful pictures and wonderful scenes. But right now, she heard the soft sniff of Kim's crying. Crying was bad; Ron didn't like it at all. She had to make Kim stop.

The quiet sobs painted a bleak picture of terror and sadness. Even though it wasn't raining, Molly could almost feel precipitation falling on their little group. It was as if the world had gotten a dark blanket thrown over the sun. She had never seen the sun, but she had felt it. It was warm and inviting; tonight was mournful and dreary. Tonight was not good; Ron would not be pleased.

"I-I don't even know why I'm all... _messed up_ like this," Kim sniffed. "H-he's been on missions before; he can handle himself. I know it. Bu-but Molly—" Kim took a haggard breath, "—there were so many!" Another soft shudder.

Molly wrapped her pudgy arms around Kim's legs, still holding onto her plastic jack-o-lantern. Kim smiled and bent down, giving her an adequate chest-to-chest hug. "I know it, Molly," Kim whispered. "He'll come back."

Kim and Molly stood in the dark street of Lowerton, holding each other.

Ø

Kim couldn't guess how long she had stood there. Her legs cramped, her back hurt, and her eyes were red with crying. But none of that mattered. Ron still hadn't come back.

She was leaning against a tree, Molly right beside her, when she thought she spotted a movement out of the corner of her eye. Could...?

No. It was her imagination. She settled back against the tree and held her candy bucket tightly to her chest, her legs folded beneath her. Ron was OK. Of course he was. He was good like that.

Another movement. This time, the silhouette jumped from shadow to shadow. Kim stood up, frightened by the movement. She slid into a fighting stance and held her ground.

"Come out and fight like a man!" she shouted to the silhouette. The slouched posture and easygoing gait were familiar to her. Too familiar...

She cocked an eyebrow. "Show yourself," she said, a little more quietly this time.

The shadow held up its hands and moved from the darkened alley into the moonlit sidewalk. Blonde hair. Brown eyes. Splotched assortment of freckles.

Kim gasped. _Ron!_ "Ron!" she squealed, running to him. He caught her in his arms, holding her tightly. "You made it."

"Of course," he whispered, voice hoarse. He was covered in cuts and bruises, but nothing serious. "I'll _always_ make it. For you," he said, kissing her hair.

"Ron!" A familiar voice pierced through the night air. Molly came running towards him, arms outstretched. Ron let go of Kim to receive her in his embrace.

"Hey, Molly!" he said. "How are you?"

The little girl bobbed her head, too excited to speak.

"Ron," Kim said softly. He looked at her, still holding Molly. "How... how did you get away?"

Ron shrugged. "I dunno. It wasn't me. It was like it was someone else, working through me. You saw how many ninja were out there." He shuddered. "I couldn't have done it on my own." Another shrug. "I'm just lucky, I guess."

Kim smiled. "I guess." She joined him and Molly in the hug. "Then I must be pretty lucky, too, to have a boyfriend as totally badical as you."

Ron blushed. "Well..."

Molly nodded. "Yes!"

Kim winked at Ron. "And _she's_ pretty lucky to have an awesome big brother."

"I couldn't do it without you, KP."

Kim gave a soft smile. He was always so humble.

"Hey, look!" Ron exclaimed. The dark clouds that had haunted the night moved away, displaying a breathtaking view. A thousand diamonds spread across a velvety-soft night sky, each pinpoint of light clearer and starker than any he had seen before. _It's beautiful._

Kim nodded her agreement. _Yes; beautiful._

And nothing, not even rampaging, fire-breathing beavers that stole peanut butter and jelly sandwiches could ruin that moment.

* * *

A/N: Phew! Finally done. I hope you guys liked this story. It took me a while to complete, so it'd better! LOL, just kidding.

But seriously, a review would be kindly appreciated. Thanks for reading, and look out for more stories from my "Take II" series. Happy Halloween!

#--3VAD127--#


End file.
